


i hoped for your name on the ouija board (and your naked magic, oh dear lord)

by entangledbanks (summerhurleys)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: House Parties, M/M, Mentions of Rape, i have no idea if i should all the rape tag or not, pete and patrick's relationship doesn't get very far above a friend level whoops, pete is super awesome and defends a girl, pre!FOB AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:17:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1800136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerhurleys/pseuds/entangledbanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>You know I only wanted fun then you got me all fucked up on love</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	i hoped for your name on the ouija board (and your naked magic, oh dear lord)

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be your ol’ regular pete/patrick fall-in-love fic based off of ‘Where Did The Party Go’ but then it escalated to this and I’m honestly confused?? I hope it’s okay. Also, Patrick’s like 17 in this?

Patrick knew he didn’t fit in at this party, this _setup_. He wasn’t in the same _scene_ as the other kids here. The ones that were thrashing their bodies as if they didn’t have anything else to live for in the midst of the pulsing bass, scattered lights, and trembling floors. Patrick, compared to these kids, was about as calm as they came.

Sure, he had friends who he imagined partied this hard, but he’d sure as hell never saw them do so. It was as if they tried to keep the rumbles of these parties away from him. He could understand why.

The sounds crawled under his skin because he wasn’t used to it and couldn’t last for long in it, the lights stung his eyes, and everything was just _too close_ for him. The whole thing reminded him of a fucked up acid trip (not that he’d ever had one, but he’d heard leagues of stories from his more laid-back friends.) and he would rather stay the hell out of it.

But Patrick was unfortunately here to stay the night. His friend Joe, who played in his latest band had invited him to this party at this guy’s house he didn’t know the name of; now he was trapped simply on terms of friendship. Patrick also did not want to leave Joe to his own devices, because he’d probably read one too many articles recently about how people OD’ed at a party and others failed to notice until it was too late.

Patrick could see the clock from where he was sitting in the kitchen of this guy’s house that it was crawling towards midnight, and he knew that it would still be hours before Joe would be either ready to go or so crashed out he’d have to be taken home (more likely the latter). He sighed and propped his head in his hands, wishing he could be getting actual sleep in his own house so maybe he wouldn’t be so tanked come Monday morning like he usually was.

While deep in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice a guy creep up behind him until he had literally sat down and leaned against him. Patrick jumped back quickly, mind racing along the lines of _oh fuck this drunk is getting all up on me should I be worried?_ , heart pounding faster than he thought possible.

“Hey, short-stop, no need to get in that fighter position. I’m not gonna touch you, it’s not my way.” The new guy says, his dark eyes hazed with what could be sleep or drunkenness, Patrick didn’t know.

“W-who are you?” Patrick asks, still in the pose he learned when he took karate five years back.

“Pete. Pete Wentz. You seriously can’t recognize me?”

It took Patrick a few moments to think and remember what _Pete_ meant by that, and when he did, he gasped. _“You’re from Arma Angelus?”_

“There’s only one Arma, and there’s only one me.” Pete chuckles, his lazy smile catching in the dim kitchen lights.

“Holy cow…” Patrick trails off, beginning to relax and sit back down in the chair he had previously occupied.

Patrick probably would have added onto that sentence he had _so gracefully_ ended, but that was when some girl came running into the kitchen screaming.

Her makeup was streaming down her face ,her top looked half-ripped off, and her jeans weren’t much better. Following her into the room was a taller, much more tougher looking guy who looked to be in his thirties. “You fucking _whore!_ ” He shouted, making a leap across the room and pulling the girl by the back of her jeans to him. _“What makes you think you’re gonna get away from me?”_

Patrick looked over at Pete, because his own body was frozen in fear and he highly doubted he could have fought the guy. Pete, however, was up and over to the guy in a matter of moments, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“What. Are. You. Doing. To Her?” Pete growls, his voice dripping with a venom Patrick never could have imagined another person having when they were at a party. 

The guy seemed to not be intimidated, and Patrick thinks that the guy has the wrong idea with thinking he’ll get away with being that way to Pete…or the girl. _“That little bitch thought she could run off on me, and I wasn’t even done with her yet!”_

Patrick takes a glance at the girl huddled in the corner, her whole body trembling, and he slowly approaches her with a newfound courage. “What did he do to you, M’am?” Patrick asks as calmly as his voice will allow, kneeling by her side.

“H-He…raped me.” The girl says almost so quietly that it was nearly drowned out by the music in the next room. She begins to cry and turns away from Patrick, and Patrick scoots away knowing that she needs her space for now.

Suddenly, there’s the sound of what Patrick immediately recognizes as fist against face, and the cry of the rapist as he collapses to the floor. _“Fuck!”_ Pete yowls, cradling his fist to his chest, foot tapping madly against the tiles as if it’ll rid the pain faster. “Hey kid, get that phone over there and call the number next to it. It’s a friend of mine and hopefully he’ll be awake for fucking once.”

Patrick quickly rushes across the room to the phone hanging on the wall, grabbing the receiver and dialing the number he sees on the top of the sticky-note pile. It takes four rings before someone picks up, and he doesn’t sound entirely surprised. _“Pete?”_

“Uh, not actually Pete b-but I’m calling on his behalf?” Patrick stutters, looking over to the scene behind him every few seconds.

_“Well, what’s wrong?”_

“He-I mean we, need a ride to the police station. This girl just got raped….and yeah…”

_“I’ll be there in five.”_ The phone hangs up abruptly, and Patrick put the receiver back up, turning to Pete.

“Whoever the heck I just called will be here soon.”

 

In the amount of time it takes for the guy- _Andy_ -to get there, Pete and some other party guest have tied up the rapist, wrapped up the girl in a blanket to keep from the cold, and gotten outside to wait. Patrick decides then that Joe will probably be okay, that this girl needs to have all of the support she can get, so he waits outside with Pete as well.

Andy drives up in a rickety brown car that was probably over ten years old, engine yowling, and brakes squealing. He doesn’t look happy at all, which makes sense considering the situation. Pete starts to drag the guy to the back seats, allowing the girl and Patrick to follow at their own pace.

“You should sit up front with Andy.” Patrick murmurs to her, and she gives him a small nod before following what he says.

Patrick and Pete squeeze into the back on both sides of the rapist, giving him hard looks the whole way to the police station as Andy talks to the girl.

 

At the police station, both Pete and Patrick have to give an account of how the scene in the kitchen played out while the rapist gets arrested and the girl gets a rape kit done. Patrick knows that his mom will hear about what’s happened, but he’s extremely glad that he didn’t get in a police station for some really bad reason like public nudity or disorderliness. Pete doesn’t seem all that worried, and Patrick guesses that either he’s in college or his parents just don’t care about what he does.

“Some hell of a house party, huh?” Pete blurts out as they wait in the middle of a hallway to be sent out.

“No kidding.” Patrick replies back, following that up by a yawn.

“Probably going to have to buy a new apartment, it’ll be really awkward being in the same place someone was raped in that I knew about…”

“That was your place?” Patrick turns to Pete, green eyes wide in curiosity.

Pete nods, fingers tapping on his thighs, starting a low, crooning whistle as he glances back at Patrick.

“….Who knew I’d get to meet Pete Wentz _tonight_?” Patrick whispers mostly to himself, realizing that after this night of events, he might just have a small crush on him.

“I’d say the same to you, _Patrick Stump_.”

Patrick doesn’t remember giving Pete his name, but…he’s okay with that, if he was completely honest with himself.

 

 

_‘I’m not gonna go home alone; Woah, where did the party go?”_

_End._

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this fic sucked. Requests are still welcome ;)


End file.
